Which moves the clock
by VanG Ziggy ZA
Summary: Carmelita arrests Muggshot on a bust, but once she has him, she finds out there is more to him than just his criminal record. And that not only makes her wonder if she loves him, but also puts her into danger.
1. Chapter 1

_**Ziggy's Corner: This story was written because of requests to see alternate relationships other than Sly/Carm. So I decided to do this the wrong way the first time with Help from Red Panda Bear who wrote the story right up to Carmelita dancing, and I took over from there. Now our joint account is gone, and I shall continue this work. I hope you like it.**_

_**Which moves the Clock?**_

_**Note: I renamed the story. **_

"Alright men, youse knows where this thingy is?" Muggshot asked.

"Affirmative," one of his henchmen said. "We're ready to go in when you are."

"The time is now," Muggshot replied.

"Ok begin operation steal big gun is a go!" the henchman said.

"I don't want any mess ups, ya hear." Muggshot warned. "This weapon is necessary for our revenge on Cooper."

"We won't let you down sir," the henchman said. He was a huge bulldog in his own right, larger than Muggshot, but much more docile than what the crazy, gun totting lunatic was. There was many times also when Muggshot decided to show him who was boss, when there were no women to sooth the crime lord's desires. In fact, this henchman could easily say that when there was no bitches around, he was Muggshot's bitch.

Muggshot took his guns out and started blasting like crazy, the bullets flew askew and sent the security guards running. The villain took this as his cue to run into the building. He passed a statue of a bunny rabbit and knocked it down laughing. He proceeded to run into the building and slammed the doors so hard it rattled his teeth.

Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox soon appeared on the scene with about 50 officers.

"Alright men move in." she commanded. "This one thinks he's tough so I'd watch out."

The officers ran into the doors, two by two. In the process they had accidentally hit a button on the stereo and a Pink Floyd song started to play. The detectives paid it no mind, and hurried after Muggshot. The Constable however started to dance to the tune. She smiled, the song her favorite. Muggshot was dangerous, but he wasn't much for her. She'd busted his scrawny ass time and time again, and she'd do it again.

Gunfire alerted her that the action had started, and the hard, stiff smell of blood nearly made her want to gag. She rushed through the hallway, her eyes nearly burst as burnt flesh and brains splattered everywhere filled the walls and the floor. She had a hard time not slipping on the floor, or throwing up at the stench of death, which smelled more like the smell of dust and rotten mushroom.

She pushed further into the hall, the lights darkened by bullets. Inch by inch, she moved in, her shock pistol held high. Finally she heard his voice.

"So the butch cop bitch is back huh?" The sounds of his knuckles coming closer and closer to her made her narrow her eyes, wanting to give the freak the finger. He smiled at her, blood splattered on his shirt, his pants.

For a moment she caught sight of those pants and blushed, not realizing how buff and big he really was. She shook the thoughts out of her mind. You're a cop, damn it. He's a thief, and a murderer!

Muggshot pointed the guns at her and smiled, ready to open fire, when a click from above made the two of them look up. A chandelier came crashing down, and both took full advantage of the mess, leaping in opposite directions, firing their weapons. His bullets struck her in the arm, and shin, making her scream, firing only two electric volts of her own. Both missed, the last one just barely.

"Son of a bitch," she cried, her eyes turning dark.

"Had no idea that youse had such a language," Muggshot laughed. He aimed and fired again, and second time, both missing the limping detective.

"You couldn't hit a target if it was painted on your large, grapefruit sized balls," Carmelita growled. She fired her shot, toward the ceiling, and spun around as the dog was too distracted to notice, delivering a knockout blow to his jaw.

She looked at him and scowled, another murderess freak down the tube. But something was different, something, odd.

What is it? Just ready yourself for an update and find out.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ziggy's corner: Second chapter of the Carm/Muggshot story, I hope you all enjoy it!**_

Carmelita walked up to her desk, her breasts rising and falling and she dropped into her seat, glaring at the paperwork as if it had done something to tick her off. Her brown eyes glared at the sheets before her and she scowled, blasting the papers off the desk and slumping down.

"Hard day at work?" Winthorp asked, looking at his boss as he cleaned up the papers from the floor. She looked at him with kindness, blushed a little bit, and turned away as the papers were set on the table, though he knew she blushed more in the fact that he saw her at her angriest than at his kindness.

"You could say that," she said with a sigh. For a brief second it seemed that she was going to brush her hand against his, but then she seemed to think twice, and the poor overweight love struck fool only sighed yet again as she began to study the papers.

"I managed to get most of the work transferred to one of the other officers, I had a feeling you'd be swamped," he said helpfully. She looked at him, smiled with a nod and buried her face back in the papers. Winthrop turned away and sighed, "Fuck it to damn hell," he mumbled feeling like a fucking piece of jackass for again being a fool to try and romance the beauty. "She'll never fall for a big, fat, fuck like me," he whimpered.

Meanwhile Carmelita stared at the paperwork, glaring at the name "Two-Gun Tony," she shook her head and scowled. She'd arrested him two months ago, and still the bitch was slippery as a piece of ass dropping. She began to flush at his face, at his smug, smug and turned away, feeling her heart rate rise. Carmelita swallowed for a moment and shook her head, reaching for a glass of water, spilling it over the table and making her curse in Spanish.

"What is it about him that is doing this to me?" she asked herself. "He's a criminal, a murder, a… a….," she stammered, her face getting redder, when Inspector Barkley came up and looked at her.

"Carmelita, I need you to walk with me," he said, pulling her by the arm. His demeanor was dark and he lead her from the office, down the hall, toward the holding cells which was teaming with squalor, and that was just the inmates.

The cells were older than the building, transplanted there before World War II. They reeked of stench, of debris. Shit lay on the floors, rats scattered as they walked, their long nails clicking against the cold stone walls. There were times when Carmelita thought she was in a Medieval dungeon rather than the cell of a police station. The lights didn't work that much, and when they did, it just showed the misery of the inmates. One time she'd walked down here, only to see someone held down and being raped by his inmates, the poor soul's pants tossed across the cell, his left arm broken when he had tried to defend himself.

"What are we doing down here?" she asked, looking at her boss.

"There is someone who wants to see you," he said in a darker tone, pushing her forward. "His lawyer would not let us do anything without him talking to you first."

Now Carmelita had to frown, and she began to think, "What? Why?"

"Why do yas think, you butch bitch of a cop?" came the course answer. Carmelita turned and glared at the bulldog in front of her, her eyes narrowing as she put a hand on her hip. "Oh come on, gonna give me dat attitude now?" He smiled at her and she turned away. "Come on, we're friends here!"

"Don't know how you got that idea," she growled, glaring at him again.

"Oh so yas goina be a bitch again huh?" Muggshot howled, crushing his fingers into his hands, ignoring the white hot pain. "I ain't talking to nobodies unless I talks to youse you know," he said in a near whimper.

"And we can't get any info from him unless he does talk, and there's a bigger fish to fry than him, Detective Fox, so … talk!" Barkley snapped at her, and walked away.

Carmelita turned to the bulldog and unleashed such a wave of curses that it nearly made her dead grandmother faint. "Want is it that you so badly want to tell me?" she growled under her teeth.

"Youse dinks I'm just a lowly freak, with no goods comin from whatever I do doncha?" he said, staring at her. "I didn't nearly always be like dat."

"Oh great, a sob story," she moaned, rolling her eyes.

"Shut your trap," he growled, pointing a stubby finger at her. "Look I didn't have it so easy, I was…"

"Yes, yes the runt of the litter," she moaned.

"Abused, bitch, my father, if you could call him that, beat the shit out of me, that was if he wasn't beating the crap outta my ma."

Carmelita frowned and looked at him for a moment. "Well I am sorry about that, but it does not justify your criminal actions."

"I ain't looking to justifies nuthin', I'm trying to tell youse what a louse youse goanna find yourself up against soon." He looked at her, and for the first time she could see something humane in his eyes. Worry, and … and… and what?

"He's a monster, my fadda," he said beginning to pace. "Bigger dan me, I can assure youse of dat. And meaner." He licked his lips. "I mean, one fucking piece of shit I can tell you."

"You? You just said…," she sat up and frowned, that word, she'd never heard him ever use it before. She looked as she had been stabbed with a knife and then ran over with a frickin' tank.

"I don't always talks … talk like a gangster, you knows," he said. He plopped down and looked at her. "I mean I do have an education," he laughed and looked away, as if staring at something in the distance. "My ma, god bless her heart, she made sure of that."

"Wait, okay so you finished high school, good for you, but…," he growled at her, hitting the bars as fast as he could. "The hell?"

"High school? Hell bitch I graduated from College. Well, undergraduate collage anyway. But the point is, I went to college." He smiled at her.

"And what degree did you achieve then? Theft, murder, hmmmm?"

"Political science if you must knows," Muggshot snapped back. He growled and fought the urge to strangle her as she laughed at him, but turned away. "I didn't expect you to believe me bitch, just listen."

He sat down and sighed. "I remember one time, my pop came home, drunk and frustrated as all hell. Ma was busy with the kids, baking supper, and trying to calm her nerves when he came into da kitchen, slammed down his briefcase on the stove and splashed hot water all over da floor and my kid sista. Ma spoke up and asked him what the hell was wrong wif him, and he took da pan and smashed it into her face!" He buried his face into his hands. "My little Maria wailed all night long. Pop wouldn't even let us take her to the doctor!"

"_Madre de Dios_," Carmelita's back tingled as she listened to him. "Holy Shit!" She began to cry, to know someone could be that cruel!

"Its what I thought too," he said, reading her mind. "But my ma couldn't go against his will. Maria, she … well she died. A few days after word, and who do you think gots da blame? My ma!" Muggshot slammed his fist into the cement wall, ignoring the crack of bones and the smell and feel of his blood as it oozed between his fingers. "Of course without da lady to take care of things, pa realized he was worthless as what he really is, so he got himself a pretty good lawyer, a sleazy lowlife who then got her out of the klink. It was the only think I was grateful to the jackass for."

"Interesting, but…,"

"Let me finish will ya?" he hollered, making her jump. "After my brudda and I got out of the house, got some good schooling, well she tried to leave pa. And it made him so mad he tracked her down and cracked her neck." He shuddered, remembering as he came home, just days after graduating from the college, only to hear the sound of a squeak and a pop, and then a thud. "I've been trying to get back at him for the last eight years."

"You're older than I thought," she said her eyes widening. Everything they had on him had him at least twenty six, but if what he was saying was true, then he'd have to be nearly thirty four. He smiled at her and blinked.

"I really began working out after she died," he chuckled. "Dat's when I started cracking some heads and taking names. Of course its also when dat bastard got wind of me and decided to bring me up 'right'. I studied three years under him, and den went off on my own."

"And he didn't care?" she said, sarcasm caked heavy over her words.

"Course he did," Muggshot growled. He looked at her, his eyes red and dark, ready for battle, ready to throttle her, and it was then she saw the inner turmoil. She could see that he wanted to hit her, to beat her, but there was a part of him that would not allow himself to slip to his father's path. "Dat didn't stop me of course."

"And this special weapon you were after, to kill Sly," she said, beginning to scribble things down.

"Don't change da subject witch," he said and then feigned a yawn. "Look, I just wanted to give ya head's up alright? He knows I'm here, he knows I've been plotting against him, and can easily testify against him. So he's bound to really come after me hard. Ya just needed to know what your up against."

"That was the only reason you wanted to talk to me?" she asked blandly.

He thought about something for a moment and shook his head, "Nah there was some thing else." He smiled darkly, opened his mouth and belched right into her face, laughing as she nearly gasped for air. "A present for the butch cop who got me in dis pardicament," he said and went back to his cot.

Carmelita growled, cursed at him in Spanish, and stormed away. That pig, he seemed like there was hope and then he did something like this, a stupid, stoner, moronic, pig! _So why can't you stop thinking about him then Carm?_

_**Okay chapter two is done. I hope you're all having fun, I know I am! Chapter three picks up next, stay tuned!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Ziggy's Corner: The third chapter of this story. I hope everyone's having fun, because I am finding out I am enjoying writing an alternate Carm paring than a normal Sly/Carm story. Do not worry, as I do LOVE Carm/Sly stories too, so I shall not end writing them either.**_

It had been a long day, and it was promising to get to be a very long night. Carmelita dropped onto her soft couch and flipped on the television, her eyes focusing on the bright illumination, and cursed again. Damn that Muggshot. Why the hell could she not stop thinking about him? The young woman closed her eyes, pushing him back into the darkness of night within her mind, back to where things were so simple and easier to understand. But he kept blasting his way toward the gray side of her conscious.

"Oh fuck this," she growled. Carmelita hissed and tossed the remote at the television, and went into her room, slipping out of her clothes and flopped onto her bed. She laid there for so many hours, listening to the click of her alarm clock, which rested next to her dresser and rolled her eyes. "Oh come on now, Carmelita get it together girl," she ordered herself.

Ten minutes to four she rose up and began stretching, batting her arms back and forth in the dark air, trying to fight imaginary enemies to clear her mind. She could only thank God that it was her day off, no need to go to work, or shop or even worry about the outside world.

_He wanted to let me know what I was up against. He claims to hate his father, but he started this 'adventure' by trying to steal elements to build some kind of weapon against Sly. _She was pacing back and forth, her eyes narrowing and finally she sat down and began jotting notes. Things were not adding up. If the big fish was Muggshot's father, then why go after his son? "Oh hell!" she screamed, grabbing her head as fiery pain seared through her mind. At times like this she would or could clearly blame Sly for this, but of course she had not heard from him or of him in weeks. And it did not help that his case had been striped … no yanked from her hands.

It was finally six o'clock before she could rest and slipped into a heavy slumber. It was always better in her mind when she dreamed. Sly, Muggshot, all of those criminals were behind bars for their crimes. They were all made to pay for what they had done, for the darkness they had brought to the world. And then new and old voices echoed through her mind.

"Come on Detective Fox, what crime did I commit?" the rogue smiled at her, which normally calmed her for a moment, both here and in the real world. This time Carmelita simply stared at him.

"I think you know Sly," she said.

"I didn't hurt anyone, I've only stolen from other thieves," he said, his voice slowly becoming more whiney, very less manly than it had normally been.

"Yes, yes I've heard it all before," she said, snapping him off before he could finish. "You steal for fun, to see if you can hone your talents, to bring back honor to a family who truly didn't have any honor to begin with." Her words were growing louder and louder, and than cute roguish smile was beginning to waver, to simply vanish from his gray skin and hair. "Grow up, get a real life if you want to help people Sly."

"And what did I ever do in Mesa City?" Muggshot snapped, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Come on, I was running a legitimate business dere!"

"Gambling is legitimate?" Carmelita asked with her tone she normally used for Sly. The oddity seemed to shock her more than it did the raccoon.

"Did I kill anybody because of it? No. Did I steal from anyone?" he chuckled and ran his hand over his head. "Well that might have depended on the dopes who kept polluting my slot machines with their cash, right?"

"And want happened to those who didn't sell their houses to you?" Sly barked. "You bullied them into giving up their land. And the former owner of the casino, what exactly happened to him?"

"I never told no body to kill him, runt," Muggshot howled.

"You didn't say _not_ to kill him," Sly pointed out, pointing at Muggshot with his cane.

Everything was getting foggy, where Sly was standing in bright gray, and Muggshot blackest of clouds, things were now all dark gray. Even the bright ground she had been standing on, the grass and the birds, the bright blue sky, seemed to be swallowed by the darkness of that dull color. Carmelita could feel her blood cool, could feel pressure in her lobes, and could do nothing as the two men clashed, disappearing into the fog, and reappearing, each time more and more covered in blood, once with Sly's arm broken and nearly fallen off. Muggshot shot from the ground, like a zombie searching for his prey, and fell down just as quickly as Sly bashed him in the head with his cane.

Flesh fell at her feet, blood soaked around her toes, and Carmelita could do nothing but watch the carnage until her father walked up next to her, and stood silently. She turned to her father, eyes pleading for him to tell her what to do next, for him to smile and tell her it was going to be okay. Instead he turned to her, smiled sadly and held her shoulders forward, making her watch.

"Your call baby girl," he said sweetly. "Who will you decide to go with? To help, to be with?"

"Daddy," Carmelita said, looking at her, waiting for him to say something else. He shook his head.

"You're at a crossroads Carmelita," he said, his thick Hispanic accent filling the void that was covered in dark gray and smelled of heavy broken bones. "You have to decide who you want."

"They're both criminals," she cried.

"True, but neither one is truly evil."

"What do I do?"

Her father laughed at her and smiled, "I can't help you doll, I wish I could but I can not."

Carmelita stood motionless, watching these two men fight, and not for her, but for their different ideas of what could and should be allowed, for fun… for profit… revenge… justice… it was making her head spin. The young woman felt her world tumble out of control and screeched at the top of her lungs, holding the sides of her head as she screamed, and bent down to vomit, the pains in her body flooding her very soul.

She shot up off of the couch, her body drenched in sweat, her eyes dilated as if she had snorted down ten kilo's of drugs. Carmelita could taste the bile from her dream still thick in her mouth, like strong, sun kissed Southern honey, and rushed for the bathroom in hopes of removing the taste, either by throwing up in the real world, or brushing it out. Her heart beat against her chest so heard, it was as if it no longer wanted to be a part of her, or was forced in her small frame along something so horrid it just needed to get out of there desperately, for fear of becoming just like the vile thing.

"What is happening to me?" she whimpered, her arms and legs shaking as if not of their own free will but on control by a demented puppet master.

Alfonso "Two Guns" Dantello paced back and forth in his office, glaring at his men. "You was supposed to keep an eye on him, right?" he said, his voice hard and heavy. Two small dogs looked at the other and back at their boss. "Not gonna answer me?"

"Sir, to begin with…," the braver of the two began, yelping as Dantello reached out, snatched him by his scrawny neck, and twisted, until he could feel the other dog's neck bone break free from the spin, and he tossed the decapitated body across the room.

"To begins with, don't talks to me like I'm stupid, got's it?" Alfonso howled at the head of his agent, taking no notice of the blood that flowed down his fingers. "I might not have graduated school like my boys did, but that doesn't mean I'm dumb." He glared at the other subordinate. "And what does youse have to say?"

"It was our fault, sir," the other dog said as he forced his body to stay still. Not only was "Two Guns" larger than Muggshot, but his office smelled of both cigar and blood on a regular basis, and it was a fact that Dantello refused to do anything about. The floor which used to be a bright green was now brown, muddy brown as the carpet was caked in different shades of dried blood. The walls were equally as brown, save for a few gold and silver decorations that the mob boss liked to hang to show who was … well boss. Cigar, blood and gun powder all mixed in the air most of the time, as well as a sickly sweet smell of the boss' young floozy who never seemed to realize that she didn't need to pour on the perfume quite so strong.

"I already knows dat," Alfonso roared, pounding an anvil sized fist into his desk. His fur was dark brown, with touches of Mugghshot's gray blue in it. Like his son, Alfonso was balder than an eagle, though no one dared mention it in front of him. His face too was bald, lacking any hair save for his eyebrows, which were a mop of dark black rags that just seemed to have been glued above his eyes, or eye… the other of which he had dug out of his skull in a drug and drunken fit of rage years ago. "You was supposed to keep an eye on him, right?"

"Yes sir," the other man said with a hint of a terrified swallow.

"So," Alfonso said, inching forward, "What the holy fuck happened then?!"

"Interpol sir, they came quicker than what we expected and…,"

"And they got the best of ya ugly mugs, right?" he hissed. His subordinate nodded. Alfonso narrowed his good eye and began pacing again. "What does I pays ya?"

"Sir?" the other man asked.

"Your check dumb ass, what does I pay ya for your services?" Alfonso barked, veins popping along his gorilla thick neck.

"Roughly around two thousand American dollars," the other said, forcing himself to keep the ground he held. _Show no weakness, I can not show weakness in front of him. _

"And do you earn that money? Does ya do what I asks of ya?" he said, his voice calming down. Before his subordinate could answer, Alfonso pounced at him and caught him by his arm. "For two thousand damn dollars you'd think you could keep an eye on that runt of a son of mine, no matter who showed up! Ya'd be able to stop God, Himself should He pound down your doors, right?"

The younger dog tried not to yelp and bit his lips to shut out the pain as Alfonso gripped his arm tighter. He felt woozy, as if he was holding his breath underwater for a long time, and nearly buckled. Alfonso chuckled and let him go, allowing him to plop into his seat.

"Ya gots guts, standing up to me like dat, I'll grant ya." Then with a flick of a light, that smile was gone, and he narrowed his brows nearly down to his nose. "But I'm a business man, you'll understands. I can'ts have my cash just flushed down the toilet because some ass wipes can't find demselves some toilet paper." He began gritting his teeth. "Ya know how much money I put into dis project, eh? Ten fricken', fucking, God damn dollars! Five times more den what I pays you, you idgit! So way I figures it, we'se gots three choices here. One, I can take that cash out of your sorry hide… very slowly. Two, for the next five years you'll be working for me in one of dem, what's da word?"

"Charity?" came a squeaked reply. Alfonso chuckled and narrowed his eyes again.

"Charity, ha, how could I forgets dat word, its my girl's name. But yes, you'll work for 'charity' for me, for the next five years, until we're all even. Or three ya can do what I paid ya stupid mugs to do, and prove to me why we shouldn't scrape dis lame project you pushed up my ass."

"We… we did manage to sneak back in, _after_ all the fighting was over and secured the weapon, sir."

Now his interest seemed to grow, and as it did, so did his manhood. Alfonso smiled, thinking to himself that he would have to pay Charity a visit within the next couple of hours and let her console him for the next couple of hours. "Did you know? And dis thingy works?"

"At a rate of forty-five percent, yes sir," the young subordinate said, and then quickly cried out in alarm as that hand reached out and snatched his arm. "We … we can get it up to a good fifty, perhaps sixty percent, but without that blueprint your son has."

"Which was why you twerps were supposed'da keep an eye on the runt," Alfonso said. He grit his teeth again, and then released the other man. "But nevertheless we still have the weapon, and we can get it running." He patted his chin and grinned. "I suppose we could work with option number three for a while for you. Provided dat you get off your lazy ass and prove to me your worth _my_ charity."

"Thank you sir," the subordinate said, his body clearly relieved.

"You have two weeks to prove to me dat I haven't made a mistake," he inched forward and puffed on his cigar. "Mr. Lawrence, don't make me believe I've made a mistake. I've gotten dis far in dis career _not_ making dem. Do we understand each others?"

Mr. Lawrence looked into the dark red eye of his boss and gulped, nodding his head.

"Good, now gets outta here you rat fink."

"I… I um…," Winthrop looked at Carmelita and buried his hands in his pocket. "I… well I…," tears were beginning to form in his eyes.

"Will you just let me know what you want?" she asked with a laugh. She saw him swallow and turn away. "What?"

"The chief told me to give you something from Muggshot. I don't know what it was, but as I was walking through the hall, something happened to the lights, and then someone ran passed me… and…," he nearly could not go on.

Before she could ask him anything else, he handed something to her. It was blue and white, circular. And it got her blood to boil. "Cooper," she said. _This is all I need right now._

"Muggshot won't tell us what the package was, though he does not know you don't have it. The chief is afraid if we tell him, he'd go so berserk that he wouldn't tell us anything, or might try to make his mistake, and well…," he bit his cheek and turned from her again. "I'm sorry I messed things up."

For a brief second she put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. "You didn't mess anything up, Winthrop. I can't tell you how many times that ringtail has stolen things right under my nose." She pulled closer and kisses his cheek, missing the warmth that flushed over his face as she pulled away. "I'll just go and talk to the chief myself about this. Maybe he has a guess as to what happened. I'll tell him I misplaced it, so you wont get into trouble."

"But…," he started to say.

Carmelita laughed and waved him off, as if scolding a silly child. "No worries dear, it'll all be okay."

Winthrop watched her go and blinked, semi smiling and touching his cheek to where she had kissed him, and then sighed again. "Talks to me like I'm her child, or kid brother or something, crap." He looked down at his shoes and walked down the hall alone.

He had hated to do that to the weasel, he really had, but there was something that he did not trust in Muggshot. Never had, and never would. Sly had been there just hours after the incident of the arrest, had been there just in time to see armored thugs take off with some kind of odd dohickey that had Bentley all worked up, and had arrived just in time to hear them say something about a manuscript or a blue print that Muggshot had. He did his math quickly with the aide of his turtle brother, and came up to the conclusion that the bulldog still had what they needed. And no doubt he'd try to palm it away off of his person, so if he had been caught, well… he could use it as a bargaining chip.

It was indeed a blueprint, of some kind of weapon, that made Bentley crap his pants numerous times. "I have a bad feeling about this one," he said into his communicator.

"Bentley's none too happy either," Murray said. "But he says he needs to do some more dinosaurianus…,"

"Dialysis…," Bentley called from the background.

"Right… that thing, before he can think of our next move."

Sly looked down toward the window, toward Carmelita, who was standing there, taking it like a man, as Barkley laid into her, just as he had done on her very first case, on the very first night she and Sly had crossed paths. That time the incident had turned out all right… but this time? Sly wasn't a very religious person, might have been had the Fiendish Five not gotten his parents, but not now. But this was just making him ill. Carmelita was not Carmelita. Something was going on, something bad. And for once in his life, Sly actually said a quick prayer that all would turn out right.

**_Damn I'm having fun writing this! This chapter turned out longer than I had thought it would, and you know what, no complaints. I'm getting a real kick out of this!_**


End file.
